


Hogwarts Takes Care of its Own

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: snarry_holidays, HP: EWE, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle of Hogwarts is over, but Harry still feels responsible for its victims. Including Severus Snape, who lies in a healer-induced stasis until someone discovers a cure for the curse that entered his bloodstream with Nagini's venom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hogwarts Takes Care of its Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maraudersaffair](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=maraudersaffair).



> Written for the 2007 [Snarry Holidays](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snarry_holidays/) as a gift for maraudersaffair.
> 
> **Betas:** Amaka and Meri Oddities, who were willing to read and comment on very short notice. And batdina, who showed me how to fix the intro section so it worked.

Every night, between midnight and three o'clock in the morning, the corridors on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's were dimly lit, full of shadows, and empty of people. Every night, between midnight and three o'clock, Harry prowled these corridors, huddled under his invisibility cloak, roaming up and down the wards set aside for victims of the Battle of Hogwarts. He still didn't know the names of the patients in every room, every bed, but he was working on it. That was Emily Weatherbee's room. A fifth-year Hufflepuff who had been hit by one too many hexes and whose mother never left her side. Percy Weasley was next door, having started babbling incoherently the morning after the battle. One or more of his family stayed with him around the clock. Charlie was there now, and Harry was due back the next afternoon to share a shift with Ron. The room across the hall was empty, because the Auror had died alone, day before yesterday at about quarter past two in the morning, before Harry could memorise his name.

"Harry." Healer Pye nodded from his seat at the healer's station. His quill was poised over the chart in front of him. More charts were piled on either side of him.

"Augustus," Harry said. "Two more empty rooms tonight."

Pye's smile was worn and tired, but very welcome. "Both of them recovered enough to be sent home yesterday."

Relief flooded through Harry, and he whispered, "Thank you."

"No change in Professor Snape though," Pye continued, scrawling a note on the chart in front of him, then adding it to the stack on his right and retrieving another from the stack to his left.

Harry nodded in acknowledgment and walked on. He ended his vigil and removed his cloak in the room furthest away from the healers' station. Severus Snape lay unmoving in that bed, suspended on the edge of death – a last ditch effort to give the healers time to halt the curse imbedded in Nagini's venom. Harry dragged the chair close to the bed, perched on the edge of the seat, and reached for Snape's hand. Fingers entwined, Harry found a measure of peace in the steady rasp of Snape's breathing.

At four o'clock, Harry yawned, stretched, and stood up. He laid the hand he held back on top of the covers and let himself out quietly.

~o~O~o~

In the entrance hall of Hogwarts, Harry shrugged back into his invisibility cloak and started up the first set of stairs that looked safe. As he had the previous night, and many nights before that, he paced the halls, wandered through abandoned offices and classrooms, picking up and examining objects that interested him, always putting them back where he found them. He passed the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, not wanting to see the portraits even if they couldn't see him, and entered an office a few doors down that he didn't remember seeing before.

A quiet Lumos revealed walls covered with floor to ceiling shelves crammed with books and scrolls. Feeling almost safe, he pushed back the hood of his cloak and collapsed into the chair behind the desk. Just a nap, he thought. Surely he was tired enough to sleep now. As he closed his eyes, a flash on the desk caught his attention. Jumping to his feet, wand in his right hand, he stared at the sparkling hourglass on a gold chain.

I should know what this is, he thought. A poke with his wand didn't do anything. The hourglass just sat there and sparkled. He picked it up and examined it from every side. Nothing but sparkles. Curiouser and curiouser. He gently prodded the empty top half with his finger, blinking when it moved. Holding the chain, he dropped it in front of his eyes and examined the crystals in the bottom. The hourglass swayed in front of his eyes, constantly creating new patterns. Unable to take his eyes off the crystals, he tucked his wand in his pocket and reached out with a finger. A single movement and the hourglass was spinning, spinning, spinning.

The room blurred, and Harry was flying. Back and back and back through a maelstrom of colour and shapes. His ears and heart pounded so loud that he couldn't hear anything else. Then his feet hit the ground. In an office that would have been identical to the one he had just left if the shelves had been full or a mirror had not been hanging on the back of the door.

Timeturner, he remembered, and fell back into the chair.

~o~O~o~

Voices brought Harry out of his funk. Teenagers were laughing and yelling at each other somewhere outside. He got up and went to the door. As had become habit over the past weeks, he checked himself in the mirror first. Flipping up his fringe, he reinforced the glamours he had started using after the last battle: one to conceal his scar from casual view and the other that hid the too gaunt, too exhausted look from not being too interested in eating or sleeping. Satisfied, he pushed his glasses back into place, pulled the hood over his head and went to find out what he'd gotten himself into this time.

Crouching on a staircase that overlooked the entrance hall, he peered between the railings, one hand on the banister to keep his balance. It was clearly the first day of a new school year. Kids who'd been away all summer jostled their way into the Great Hall, reminding themselves why they liked, or disliked, each other. A familiar laugh caught his attention, and he gasped, "Sirius." He moved as far forward as possible, cheeks resting against the wooden railings, and there they were, Messrs Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs. Sirius's arm was slung across Remus's shoulders. James, only his familiar head of messy black hair visible, walked on Sirius's far side. Wormtail was scurrying a few steps behind them, clearly trying to catch up. Harry groaned aloud. He'd really done it this time.

Harry stayed there, unmoving, for what seemed like hours. He watched the first years file into the Great Hall, heard echoes of speeches and what had to be the Sorting Hat doing its thing. When the cheers ended, the scents of familiar foods wafted up to him, making his mouth water and his stomach grumble. After a while, he shifted positions, curling up on the stairs so the edge didn't dig into his side quite so much. He was drifting into a hazy sleep when the doors flung open and students headed for their common rooms and dormitories.

"Do you want to explain why you are hiding up here?"

Startled, Harry spun around, barely noticing his head cracking against the banister. Pointing his wand at a familiar figure in bright blue robes, who stood below him on the stairs, he hissed, "Don't do that."

"It's considerably more polite to remove your cloak and reveal yourself." Headmaster Dumbledore held his hands away from his body. Blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses, long silver white hair and beard, he looked much the same as he had on Harry's first day at Hogwarts.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, flushing a dull red. He folded the cloak carefully and laid it across his arm.

"Headmaster Albus Dumbledore." He held out a hand.

"Harry…" Harry hesitated. He couldn't be Potter, not if that really was his dad. "Granger," he blurted out. "Harry Granger."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Granger." Dumbledore started walking down the stairs, beckoning for Harry to follow him.

The interview in Dumbledore's office was short and a bit embarrassing. Harry had no money, no letter, and no school supplies, just a wand, his invisibility cloak, and the clothes on his back. After a cup of tea, two sandwiches, several biscuits, three lemon drops, and a quick test of Harry's magic, Dumbledore gestured and a heavy ledger appeared on the desk in front of him."

"Well, that settles it then," Dumbledore said, turning the ledger around to show Harry. "Harry Granger, invited for seventh year. You got a reasonable number of OWLs, so we won't have too many problems assigning you to classes."

"But how?" Harry stared into the blue eyes, completely confused.

"You'll find that Hogwarts takes care of its own, young man." Dumbledore closed the ledger. "Now, put on that hat and let's get you sorted."

~o~O~o~

The one thing that Harry had known for sure this time was that he didn't want to – and oh so desperately wanted to – sleep in the same dorm as his dad. Maybe if he'd thought enough to change his glamour, change his looks. But even if he'd done that, how could he face his father, his godfather, and his friend night after night and not slip up, not fall apart, not get himself deeper into whatever trouble this was? So this time when the Sorting Hat suggested Slytherin, he didn't argue – until he stood in the Slytherin common room.

The place looked much the same as it had back in second year with the lamps and carpet and sofas and armchairs all in some shade of green. And a similar sea of unfriendly eyes.

How could he have forgotten who was at school with them? The faces were younger, but he recognised too many of them. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange were curled up on a sofa together (except she'd be Black still, he reminded himself). Someone who looked so much like Sirius that he had to be Regulus Black glared at him from an armchair near the fire. Others were familiar from fighting with Death Eaters for so many years, but he couldn't quite put names to their faces. He resisted the urge to pat his fringe down, to look for a mirror and check whether the glamour over his scar was still working.

Apparently oblivious of the undertones in the room, Professor Slughorn – still with that ridiculous moustache and belly – introduced Harry as a transfer student. At Slughorn's prompting a prefect named Avery escorted Harry down a stone corridor to the seventh year dormitory and pointed out his bed before disappearing back to the common room. The square room was chilly, like the rest of the dungeons. The six beds, two on each side, had green and silver hangings, a small bedside table and a trunk at the foot. A wave of homesickness for the Gryffindor dorm, for Ron and Hermione, swept over Harry. He forced it down, shoved it back into the corner of his mind where he locked everything else he didn't have time to sort out.

There was a trunk at the foot of his bed. His trunk. He ignored the part of his mind that was gibbering and trying to figure out how this was even possible. Put it down to the castle taking care of its own, he reassured himself and knelt down in front of the trunk, running his hands over the top. All those familiar dents and scratches came from years of bashing around and being dragged through windows. The SPEW sticker that Hermione had slapped on against his protests clinched it though. Luckily, all it said was SPEW. He didn't want to explain to the Slytherins why he belonged to a society for house-elves. Lifting the lid, he rummaged through its shrunken contents. His broom and quills and parchments, even the bit of mirror that he'd tossed and dug back out of the rubbish more than once. Stomach churning, he shoved the 'Weasley is our King' button into a back corner and lifted out his school robes. He swore with relief, no longer worrying about how, just immeasurably glad that Gryffindor scarlet and gold had been replaced with Slytherin green and silver.

"Do you mind? Some of us are trying to read here." The voice was deep and dripping with annoyance, and came from the bed between Harry's and the door. The face that scowled from the gap in the curtains was too thin and too pale, with a hooked nose that was too big, and a protective shield of lank black hair that was too oily to be even remotely attractive.

Oh, hell, Harry thought. He really was losing it if he hadn't remembered that Snape would be here. Swallowing a surge of emotion that he didn't want to identify, Harry pocketed his wand and walked over. He stuck out his hand, "Harry Granger."

Snape took his hand carefully, touching as little as possible and dropping it almost immediately. "Severus Snape. Now go away."

~o~O~o~

The next morning, Harry looked at the schedule Slughorn had given him the previous night. He was signed up for the same subjects he'd taken in sixth year. Charms, Defence against Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions. Sorting through his trunk, he wasn't surprised to find books and supplies for all of these classes. Checking the parchment again, he packed his bag with what he needed for his morning classes, secured his wand in the pocket of his robes, and then placed the supplies for his afternoon classes on the bed. All the better to grab them after lunch. The copy of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage made him pause. This book was new, not battered around the edges, and the pages were clean of scrawled notes. He glanced over at Snape's already empty bed before putting the book next to his scales. Since there was no-one else around to see him do magic without a wand, he muttered a quick Tempus. It was past time to get moving if he wanted a cup of tea before Herbology.

A few hours later, munching on the half a ham and cheese sandwich he'd grabbed at lunch, Harry dumped out his bag and repacked it. Bloody NEWTs. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. First morning of classes and he already had a few feet of homework. At least it wouldn't leave him too much time to think. He shoved the last of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed rapidly. His bag clanked as he ran off to the Potions classroom.

"Sit down. Sit down. Any available space will do." Professor Slughorn waved a hand at Harry. His other hand was toying with a gold watch fob that matched the buttons on his brocade waistcoat. "Get your books, scales, and potions kits out, everyone. We don't have any time to waste this year."

A quick glance revealed the one student Harry had managed to avoid so far. Long, dark red hair tied back in a ponytail and green eyes that matched the ones he saw in the mirror every morning. She was smiling, tilting her head at the empty seat next to her, making an offer more precious than she could know. Harry took a half step forward then halted as a familiar scream ripped out of his memories. Why couldn't he just let all that go, relax, and enjoy getting to know his parents? He wanted to break things.

Instead, he shook his head and looked around again. He almost smiled in relief when he saw a familiar annotated book open on a table. Snape had spread his things out, clearly expecting to be alone.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape snarled.

"Taking an available space like the professor said."

"This is my table."

"Some of the others are sitting four to a table. No reason we can't manage with two."

"Suit yourself. It's your funeral." Snape shrugged and adjusted the balance of his cauldron.

Harry retrieved his potions kit from his bag and started setting up his workspace. Flipping through his textbook to find the potion listed on the blackboard, he peeked at his mother only to meet her eyes. No longer bright with curiosity or offered friendship, they were closed and hard with something that could have been dislike or hurt or both.

Professor Slughorn spent much of the first hour lecturing. He strode around in front of the class, puffing out his chest and swinging his watch on its chain. Everything changed when you reached NEWT-level. The focus was on potions that cured conditions caused by curses and hexes. Potions weren't just graded; successful ones were used in the infirmary. And experimentation was encouraged. Any student who managed to improve on an existing recipe or create a new potion earned extra credit.

"I'm dead," Harry groaned and rested his head in his hands.

"Are you looking for the sympathy I don't have?" Snape asked.

"It's just that my experiments usually lead to exploding cauldrons. Last year was only different because I had someone to bounce ideas off before I tried them." Or his book at least, Harry added silently.

"I'm not promising to listen, but you can try talking to me."

"Really?" Harry lifted his head and looked at Snape. "That would be brilliant."

"Just so." Snape opened his book to the instructions for the day's potion and laid his quill nearby before gathering his ingredients.

Harry stared. His memory flipped through the pages, added scribbled notations and alternate instructions in the margins, and notes for new potions on the blank pages at the ends of chapters. He needed that textbook, needed to know if he was right about where he'd seen the cure.

~o~O~o~

For the first few weeks of term, Harry successfully avoided spending any more time than absolutely necessary around his parents, the other Marauders, and the proto Death Eaters in the Slytherin common room. Staying away from his parents was the hardest. So many times he had resisted the urge to walk over to them, curl up at their feet, and reveal his identity. But even if he managed to convince them that he was telling the truth (because I'm just so trustworthy, he snorted), what answer could he give if they asked about their family life? It was much simpler to avoid them and the whole stinking mess.

He sat next to Snape in every class they shared and sat in front of the professor in his other classes. He headed for the dormitory before his roommates, got up early, and placed heavy-duty wards and silencing spells on his bed every night to prevent anyone from opening his curtains or hearing the nightmares that wracked the few hours he managed to sleep. One night, he sat cross-legged on his bed from lights out to dawn, staring at a phial of Dreamless Sleeping Draught that he'd snuck out of his own cauldron, unable to convince himself that he was safe enough in his own bed to take it. Most of his free time was spent working on potions or studying in the back of the library where Granger had become Harry and Snape had become Severus. His grades were the highest they'd ever been, and he was finally starting to relax.

The night Harry learned how much of a mistake that was, he'd spent several hours in the Potions classroom with Severus, experimenting with some improvements to the standard Veritaserum recipe. Severus was splitting his time between their joint cauldron and the three cauldrons that bubbled with his personal research. Harry jotted down the results of their last set of modifications in his notebook. When Harry turned around, Severus was reviewing the notes in his potions textbook, tracing the outline of his lower lip again and again with one long, pale finger. Harry gulped, unable to take his eyes off that finger, off that lip. He licked his own lips. When the finger stopped moving, he raised his eyes only to find Severus watching him quizzically.

"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing you ever saw, darling? The greasy swot and the scaredy cat." Bellatrix Black's sneer pierced Harry's confusion. She sashayed up to him, leaving Lestrange and her other followers to block the doorway. Her black hair was thick and well-kept, curling around her throat and shoulders, shimmering down her back. Her eyes flashed with amusement, cruelty, and a hint of the madness that was to come.

Images flashed in front of Harry's eyes. Sirius falling through the veil. The triumphant look on Bellatrix's face as she watched. Her face twisted with fear and insanity as she cowered at Voldemort's feet. Molly Weasley finally putting the bitch down. Fighting for control against the fury, hate, and fear rising within him, Harry turned to face her. When she reached for his face, resettled his glasses, then cupped his cheek with her hand, he backed up as far as the table would allow. Grasping the table edge with one hand, he groped for his wand with the other. Two words, that's all it would take, and he'd get to kill her first.

_Don't do it, Harry_. Hermione's voice echoed through his emotional fug, making him hesitate. _Nobody's supposed to change time, nobody!_

"Why, Bella, I didn't know you cared." Severus said, silky and dangerous, wand held with deceptive carelessness in his hand.

"You wish." Bellatrix's lip curled in scorn.

"Why would I wish for you when I have something so much more to my liking closer at hand?" Severus held his free hand out to Harry.

Harry stared at it for a moment before recognising the offer of protection. Swallowing hard, he reached out, pulled the offered hand to his chest, and allowed himself to be drawn sideways until he was held in the circle of Severus's arm. His heart beat rapidly, matching the thrum of Severus's heart against his back. Safe, his instincts said, and he had no idea how or why. Harry's muscles shook with a welter of conflicting emotions.

"Shall we try this again?" Severus said, "Hullo, Bella, my dear. Did you and your cohort come to assist us with the potions I was asked to create? Or are you planning to explain the delay?"

Already? But he said you joined them after seventh year. Harry cursed his lack of information about what had happened in the past, present, whenever the hell this was.

"Do you think he would appreciate you wasting time with this dalliance?" She twirled around and returned to Lestrange, lifting his hand and kissing the knuckles.

"Frankly, I don't think he gives a damn as long as I do as he asks." Severus's muscles coiled, as if ready to pounce, his arm tightened around Harry. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to tend my cauldrons before things get really exciting around here."

"Far be it from me to interfere with your duty." Eyes gleaming with an unidentifiable emotion, Bellatrix leaned over and tapped Severus on the nose then flounced out, trailed by her minions.

"Crazy bitch." Severus yanked his hand free, releasing Harry, and proceeded to check on his cauldrons. Snorting in disgust, he flicked his wand and doused the flame under one. "Utterly ruined."

"Sev…Severus?" Harry began then ground to a flustered halt, full of questions that he didn't know how to ask. How could you pull away like that? Didn't you feel anything? Why did you join him? Can I kiss you, touch you, crawl back into your arms?

"You're welcome." Severus went to the stores and pulled out ingredients from the stores. "Do you need to run off, or can you spare an hour to assist me?"

"Er… thanks." Harry breathed deeply a few times to settle himself. Sod it. If Severus wanted to pretend nothing had happened, what choice did he have? Wand now close to hand, he retrieved his knife and reached for the valerian root. "This needs to be finely shredded, right?"

They worked in silence until just before curfew, when they headed to their dormitory.

~o~O~o~

After that encounter, hostile eyes seemed to follow Harry everywhere, whether he was passing through the common room, eating in the Great Hall, sitting in class, or walking around the castle. He fell back into old school habits, kept his wand within easy reach and spent as little time alone as was possible for someone with only one almost-friend. One evening, sitting alone in the library, watching other students whisper jokes and help each other with homework, the absence of Ron and Hermione ached like an amputated limb.

After the weather became cold enough to deter even the most dedicated lovers, he went outside after his roommates finally went to sleep. Using his invisibility cloak and several carefully placed warming spells, he spent more and more nights in the Astronomy tower.

On the nights of the full moon, when the howls of a werewolf rent the air, he rested his head on his knees and tried not to feel quite so sorry for himself.

Harry was lonelier than he'd ever been. He really hadn't understood the difference between lonely and alone before. Severus had gone back to his usual self, remaining distant and completely under control, unwilling to touch or be touched. All of Harry's hints and horrible attempts at flirting had been met with a sneer and a raised eyebrow or loftily ignored. To add insult to injury, Severus had become so secretive about the notes he made in his textbook that Harry hadn't even gotten a glimpse of them.

He desperately missed his Sirius and Remus. But the Marauders didn't even seem to know he existed. They only acknowledged students outside Gryffindor when they pulled the occasional prank, or when Head Boy Potter or Prefect Lupin deducted points or assigned detentions. On really bad days, like the interminable Yule holiday when he and Severus were the only Slytherin students staying at school, and Severus holed up in the lab, Harry even found himself missing the fights caused by Ron's occasional fits of jealous rage.

Later, he blamed his loneliness and distraction for all the trouble he got into during Defence against Dark Arts that third Monday in January. Running late after a transfiguration went horribly wrong, he slouched into Defence ten minutes late. His attempt to slide unnoticed into his seat failed because there was no-one, nothing in the classroom except a note on the board announcing that they were meeting on the Quidditch pitch and that change would not excuse tardiness.

A few minutes later, dishevelled and out of breath from running, he found the rest of his class. Professor Rockridge was almost finished dividing the students into two rows – by strength and not by house, she told Harry after she took five points from Slytherin for tardiness and placed him in the one remaining spot at the end of a row. For the first time, he was face to face with Sirius Black. Harry's chest constricted. If he'd been smiling instead of sneering with arrogance, his soon-to-be godfather would have looked exactly as he did in the picture of Harry's parents' wedding. A mere foreshadowing of the no-longer-handsome man who had hugged Harry and offered to take care of him.

Rockridge stalked between the two lines. Her brown hair was twisted into a large bun and held in place by a blue lace snood that matched the embroidery on her robes. "NEWTs are not restricted to theory. As with OWLs, you will be expected to display practical knowledge of counter-curses and -jinxes. However, unlike your OWLs, your instructor will expect you to defend yourself against whatever is thrown at you, without warning. From now on, we will practice what you have learned. Mock duels will be held out here every second Monday. The following Monday, I expect parchment from each of you describing your mistakes and how you should have responded. If you feel that you responded appropriately to everything, that you did not do anything wrong – and I highly doubt that will be the case – you may write about how you defeated your opponent. Be warned, however, I will deduct both marks and points from any student who does not confess to his or her mistakes. To ensure you do not get too familiar with your opponent's tactics, I will assign you a new sparring partner before every duel." She stopped near Harry and tapped her wand against her hand. "Any questions?"

While the professor answered the innumerable questions asked by the insufferable Carletta Edgecombe, a Ravenclaw know-it-all who would have given Hermione a run for her money, Harry craned his neck and looked for Severus. Something inside that he didn't want to identify curled up a little tighter when he spied his friend – and wasn't that another something he didn't want to think about – almost at the other end of the same row, standing opposite Remus Lupin and scowling fiercely.

Nerves vibrating with warning, Harry scanned the rest of the pairs for potential trouble spots. His mother was standing next to Remus and was matched with Rodolphus Lestrange. Elladora Jones of Hufflepuff stood next to Harry and opposite Peter Pettigrew. Next to Elladora, Bellatrix Black faced James Potter. Utter sodding irony, Harry thought. Stupid damn professor should pay more attention to the dissension in the ranks.

"I remind you that this is Defence, not Dark Arts. Any student who uses an Unforgivable or any curse, hex, or jinx that results in permanent injury will be summarily expelled and handed over to the Ministry."

She paused to examine each of the students then said, "We observe the rules of formal duelling and cast from twenty paces, ladies and gentlemen. Salute your opponent then take ten steps back and make sure you are lined up with the students on either side of you."

Another pause before the professor continued, "That includes you Mr Pettigrew. There is no allowance for height differences." Rockridge walked along the rows, occasionally pushing a student into place. As she walked back down the centre, muttering and waving her wand, a clear shield of magic rose up between each pair of duellers. No worries about errant spells then, Harry was almost dizzy with relief. He glanced at his neighbours again, managing to avoid Sirius's grey gaze, before returning his attention to the professor. She had created a final shield next to Harry and Sirius and transfigured a tall viewing stand on the other side. After she ascended to the top, she held out a silver sphere, pressed a button on the top, and announced, "Raise your wands, ladies and gentlemen. Bow to your opponent. On my mark, begin."

Harry ducked the jet of yellow light that erupted from Sirius's wand and threw Tarantallegra back. No pauses. No waiting for the other to finish before attacking. And no permanent damage allowed, Harry ordered his battle-honed instincts, as he yelled Protego to block a scarlet-lit Expelliarmus. Sirius got him with a well-placed Rictusempra. When Sirius paused to smirk at his success, Harry responded with a leg-locker that knocked his opponent to the ground. A too-short breathing space, then Harry was back to dodging and casting: body-bind and jelly fingers, sponge knees and Confundo.

"Time, ladies and gentlemen. Wands up. Bow to your opponents." Rockridge's voice distracted Harry just long enough for Sirius's stinging hex to hit Harry's wand hand. The brief flare of pain rocked through him, breaking his concentration, sending a ripple through his glamours. Rubbing the bright red weal, hands up to protect his face, he dropped to his knees and reinforced his protections. This was not the place to expose his scar or his exhaustion.

Closest to Rockridge's stand, Harry and Sirius were the first to have their wands tested. She took Harry's wand and placed the point into a depression in the silver sphere, explaining that it recorded all spells cast after she triggered the device. While she repeated the process with Sirius's wand, Harry checked on the others as discreetly as he could manage. Severus and Remus were too far away for him to see them through all the shields (he could trust them not to hurt each other, couldn't he?). Of those he could see, at least two students were down. And one was Pettigrew (hurrah for Elladora). Bellatrix was holding one arm protectively to her chest (even better) and glaring at James who was ignoring her and staring at Harry (and what the hell was that about?).

Not waiting for Rockridge's dismissal, Harry took off for the castle as soon as he had his wand back. When he stopped to catch his breath, he was in front of the portrait hole that led to the Gryffindor common room. Bloody hell, he raked his fingers through his hair. Am I even supposed to know where this place is?

"I don't think you belong here, dearie," The fat woman in the portrait giggled.

"Not anymore," he muttered. Spinning around, he headed down the stairs to safety, taking them two at a time. He had just reached the ground floor, when he was flung into an alcove off the entrance hall.

"Who are you? What game are you playing?" James lodged his wand under Harry's chin. Sirius stood behind him, blocking access to the alcove, wand in one hand and a familiar parchment in the other.

"Harry Granger, seventh year, Slytherin House. The only game I play is Quidditch and not so much of that any more."

"Don't play the innocent." The wand dug a little deeper into the soft flesh, making Harry gag. James spoke through gritted teeth. "How is it that you look so much like me? My hair, my mouth, my chin?" James yanked on each of the offending features. "Pull the other leg, snake, it's got bells on."

"Oh, get over yourself." Harry's green eyes blazed with the frustration and anger that had filled his life for so many years. He was so over putting up with this kind of shite. Not from my dad too, something deep inside him howled. "All that pureblood inbreeding, and you're surprised we look a bit alike? I bet if we compared family trees, we'd find more than a couple of common ancestors."

"He's got a point, James." Remus moved to James's side, breathing harsh and fast.

"A very good one," Severus said, his wand at Sirius's temple. "As do I."

"Snivellus, how lovely of you to join us. Come to save your boyfriend?" Sirius tucked the folded parchment in his pocket and twirled his wand.

Nostrils flaring, dark eyes glittering, Severus barked a harsh laugh. "Just keeping the odds a little more even."

Feeling the pressure on this throat slacken, Harry grinned fiercely. A quick slide sideways, a duck and a whirl, and James was flat against the wall, held in place by Harry's hand on his chest and Harry's wand pointing at his nose. "I definitely prefer these odds. Now where were we?"

Remus leant against the wall next to James. "I believe we were discussing your resemblance to our friend here."

"He's wearing a glamour. I saw it flicker after the duel." James snarled.

"Is that true, Harry?" Severus asked, voice wavering with something Harry didn't want to try to identify.

Bloody hell, Harry cursed. He thought he'd been fast enough. Maintaining his hold on James, he nodded. "But it's got sod all to do with my looks."

"Then you've got nothing to lose by showing us." Tone soft and familiar, Remus placed a hand on Harry's arm.

Harry searched James's hazel eyes for something, anything he could trust. James stared back, but offered nothing in return. No choice here, Harry thought, and said, "Fine, yeah, but it stays between us. I don't want you telling anyone. Not the other students and definitely not the teachers."

"You have our word," Remus responded. None of the others objected.

"I'm letting you go now," Harry said to James. "Going to trust you to stay there while I do this."

"I, on the other hand, have no intention of trusting any of you." Severus said. "Black will remain my hostage against your good behaviour."

"Agreed," James said.

Harry backed off until he stood off to the side, closer to Severus than to James and Remus. He squared his shoulders, breathed in and out until his control returned. You've practiced this, he told himself. Just let the one glamour go and hold onto the one that protects your scar. Another deep breath and he was as ready as he would ever be. Focussing his power, he aimed his wand at his chin and said, "Finite incantatem."

A chill poured through him, moving from head to toe and it was done. He looked up, knowing what they were seeing. Slightly swollen and reddened eyes surrounded by black shadows from too many nights of little or no sleep. The too thin face of someone who forces himself to eat just enough to stay alive. "Satisfied?"

Taking the lack of response as a yes, he reapplied the glamour. "Now, if you don't mind." He pushed past Severus and Sirius, only to bump into Dumbledore when he emerged into the entrance hall.

"Mr Granger. I hope there were no side-effects from the duel."

"I'm fine."

"And everyone else?" Dumbledore peered past Harry into the alcove. "Do come out so we can be reassured."

The others filed out of the alcove behind Harry, each one muttering "Fine."

"Good. Good. The infirmary is busy enough dealing with the consequences of the duel for other students." Dumbledore pulled a tin from somewhere in his bright yellow and purple robes and popped a sweet into his mouth.

Harry took that as a dismissal and started for the doors only to be stopped by Dumbledore continuing to speak. "Before I forget; five points from each of you and two nights' detention. Mr Filch will expect you at 8 o'clock tonight."

Ten points in one day. The Slytherins were going to kill him. Harry ran for the lake.

~o~O~o~

He was huddled under a cloak that he'd transfigured from a leaf, shivering and tossing stones into the water, when Severus found him.

"Warming charms work wonders, you know." Severus cast one over both of them before joining Harry on the ground.

"Th…thanks." Harry resisted the urge to press into the heat coming off the arm and leg that rested against his own. Instead, he lowered his head, resting his forehead on his knees. Surely he'd humiliated himself enough for one day.

They sat in a silence that might have been companiable, if Harry hadn't been so tied up in conflicting knots and Severus had not radiated so much tension. Harry stared at the ground between his legs, plucking and discarding blades of dead, dried grass. Weariness blanketed his mind. It had all gone so very wrong, and he still didn't have a clue what it was.

When Severus shifted, withdrawing slightly, Harry lifted his head and whispered, "Sorry."

Silence grew between them again, until it was eventually broken by Severus. "What do you have to be sorry about?"

"Making a hash of things, as usual. Getting us all in trouble because I lost control. You really want the whole long list?"

"Hardly." There was more silence, denser and more impenetrable, until Severus reached out, fingers shaking as they came to rest on Harry's arm. "I came here to apologise to you."

"What for?"

"For their mistaken assumptions."

"Huh?"

"For allowing them to believe that we were … involved."

Not about the glamour then. Harry frowned, going back over the confrontation. Wait, what was it Sirius had said? "You mean the boyfriend thing."

"Yes."

"Why would I mind that?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Harry hesitated. All these mixed up feelings, but how to talk about them without mucking things up further. The only clue to whatever was going on behind Severus's closed up face was the trembling hand that rested on Harry's arm. As Harry debated what to say, how to say it, the hand started to withdraw. As if it were a snitch, Harry reached out and grasped it, twining their fingers, holding on. "I'm useless at this stuff, just so you know. Been accused of having a vocabulary that lacks … well, one that's lacking." Harry smiled, bitter and sweet, remembering the twist of thin lips that always accompanied that insult. "Anyway, I don't know why I should mind that git calling me your boyfriend. It's not like anyone else has done anything but ignore me or threaten me around here."

Severus tensed up even further, then sighed. His muscles relaxed as he released the shuddering gust of air. He didn't respond, except to tighten his grip on Harry's hand.

Silence descended upon them again, as they leaned into each other. After a few minutes, Severus released Harry's hand and slipped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in closer. Moaning with relief, Harry snuggled in, resting his head against Severus's chest and letting his mind drift. They stayed that way until the sun going down and the warming spell wearing off roused them both.

They stood together. Harry immediately moved closer to Severus, reached up, tucked a strand of black hair behind his ear, stroked a finger along a winged eyebrow and down his cheek. "Your choice."

"And if I choose this?" Severus tilted his head down, curled a hand behind Harry's neck, and kissed him. The gentle press of lips deepened when Severus sucked on Harry's lower lip, when Harry opened his mouth and encouraged more, when Harry's arms slipped around Severus's waist and drew their bodies together.

Pulling away just enough, Severus placed a finger under Harry's chin and tipped his head upward. Lips quirking into an almost-smile, Severus said, "You do not object, apparently."

"Not in the least." Harry raised himself the inch or two needed to kiss Severus again.

They walked back slowly, holding hands until they were almost at the entrance doors to the castle. At dinner, they sat next to each other at the end of the Slytherin table, talking quietly and ignoring everyone else in the room. When Harry pushed his food around on the plate, not really hungry, Severus raised an eyebrow and suggested that he might need the energy later. Afterward, when Harry had finished the pudding Severus served to him, they went out to find Filch and serve their detention.

~o~O~o~

The professors loaded the seventh-year students with research and homework. The NEWTs loomed ever closer, bringing other students into the library and the Potions classroom, and leaving Harry and Severus with very little privacy over the following weeks. For several nights, Harry dragged his boyfriend to the hallway outside the Room of Requirement, but the castle refused to cooperate. Kissing, groping, and rubbing against each other in alcoves and abandoned classrooms. It wasn't enough though, nowhere near enough.

The last Saturday in March was cold and clear. The sun shone on the previous day's snow from a clear blue sky. Harry leaned against a parapet and watched the stream of students heading for Hogsmeade. When the last had passed through the gates, he made his way downstairs to the Potions classroom.

"Sandwiches and tea are on the other table," Severus said without turning around.

"Started without me, I see." Harry smiled as he poured himself a cup of tea from the steaming pot and went to join Severus.

"Time and potions wait for no wizard."

Harry groaned at the mangled quotation and peered into the cauldron. "Is it supposed to be that kind of murky green?"

"At this stage, yes." Severus pulled Harry back and dropped a kiss on his lips. "Have you even opened your textbook?"

"Yes, but I've learned more from you."

Huffing in acknowledgement of the compliment, Severus flipped his copy of Advanced Potion-Making open to the page on the Veritaserum antidote. "I thought we could attempt the improvements you suggested."

"You sure you want to trust someone who doesn't open the book?"

"You know I don't believe you to be completely incapable."

"So reassuring, you are." Harry batted his eyes and leaned up for another kiss.

"Demanding brat," Severus said, eyes gleaming with affection as he complied.

When they pulled apart, breathless and slightly dishevelled, Severus turned the book around so they could both read it. They worked in tandem. Harry prepared ingredients, following the instructions and any scribbled corrections. Severus examined the offerings. If they passed inspection, he added them to the potion and stirred.

When the last of the ingredients for this stage had been added and the potion had been stirred the correct number of times in the correct directions, Severus turned to face Harry. He pushed Harry's glasses up with a finger stained green and brown, then ruffled the messy black hair. "Would you like to start our next experiment while this potion simmers?"

"Got anything else on offer?"

"I am sure we can think of something."

Harry dropped his glasses on the table, his response lost in a moan.

Biting, sucking, nipping, licking, kissing, Severus mapped Harry's face and neck. One of them, both of them, whispered a spell that unfastened buttons. Hands slid across bared skin.

"A shame to interrupt such a special moment, don't you think darling?" Bellatrix's voice dashed against their bodies like freezing cold water. Harry fumbled for his glasses and shoved them back on his nose. Severus spun him around, so they were both facing the intruders.

"Absolutely, my love, although we do have a higher calling. You know how he dislikes being kept waiting." Rodolphus Lestrange brought her hand to his mouth and nuzzled the inside of her wrist.

Severus hugged Harry tighter and asked, "What do you want?"

"Leave your pretty boy and come with us." Bella smiled. "We are called to a meeting."

"No." The word escaped from Harry's mouth before he could pull it back.

"Ssshh." Severus spoke quietly, mouth beside Harry's ear. "Not to worry. This should not take too long."

Filled with panic, wanting to stop this now, before it went any further, turned into an oath and an agonisingly permanent tattoo, Harry twisted around and captured a handful of lank black hair. He hissed urgently, "Don't go."

Gentle and caring, Severus kissed Harry's forehead. "It will be fine. I promise.

"Severus," Bellatrix interrupted. "We must leave now. The portkey awaits us in Hogsmeade."

"Grant us a minute of privacy to say goodbye."

"One minute only, then we drag you out if necessary." The door did not completely close behind them.

"I am sorry, Harry. I had intended to spend the whole day with you."

"Stay with me. We can still do it," Harry insisted, clamping down on the words that rang through his mind. 

"Would that I could," Severus said. "But it is too late for that. I gave my word."

"And you believe they'll keep theirs?"

"As long as they do, I cannot break my oath."

"Sodding honourable git." Anger, bitterness, frustration flushed through Harry. Only the truth could win this battle, and he had no proof. He shoved Severus away. "Fine. Go."

"Forgive me?"

"If I must."

"Harry?"

"Fine. Yes. I'll forgive you." Harry moved forward and caught Severus's hands. "Can hardly hold your honour against you when it's part and parcel of why I love you."

"Thank you." Severus lowered his lips onto Harry's and kissed him thoroughly. "Take care of our potions."

"Stasis spells on all of them, I know. Now get out of here before that bitch drags her sorry arse back in here."

"Harry?" Severus paused before closing the door. "Me too."

The stasis spells took bare minutes to cast. An hour later, the school ingredients were back in the stores and their minimal mess was cleaned up. Harry repacked their kits, putting everything into their bags. Back in the dormitory, he placed their bags on their respective trunks. He retrieved Severus's textbook from the pocket of his robes and looked at it thoughtfully. Apparently, he wasn't all that honourable. Sprawling across his bed on his stomach, he opened the book and looked for the cure he remembered seeing.

A couple of hours later, Harry was copying the instructions onto a blank scroll of parchment. One margin note took a bit of deciphering, but he was familiar enough with his lover's handwriting to make it out. When he was done, he capped the ink bottle and placed his quill on the bedside table. A quick drying spell and the parchment was ready to be rolled up and placed in his pocket.

But was he ready? Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't bear to stay, forced to watch Severus fall deeper and deeper into Voldemort's clutches. But how could he leave and abandon him to the Death Eaters? Then again, this Severus, his Severus, was alive. If he stayed, didn't take this parchment back, the other Severus, the Severus who lay unconscious in a hospital bed, would die. Or would staying mean that that never happened?

He could be at this for years, going around in the same circles, and never come to a decision, Harry thought. Still, there was only one surety, one honourable decision among the lot of them. Aching in body and soul, he stowed the parchment and retrieved his invisibility cloak. Leaving the book on Severus's pillow, he made his way back to the book-lined office. He was standing there, clutching the timeturner and blinking back tears, when Severus arrived.

"What is that?"

"A decision." Harry slid his hand into the long black hair and kissed Severus, deep and hard and long. Running his fingers over the thin reddened lips, he stepped back. "Forgive me someday?" he begged then spun the hourglass.

~o~O~o~

One night, several decades and three weeks later, a light shone over the bed in the room furthest from the healers' station. Severus lay almost flat, reading a book that hovered at just the right height. Harry watched him from the door, wanting to walk away, to go inside.

"Stop dithering. Either come in and close the door or leave." Severus didn't look away from the page as he spoke.

"Hullo." Harry winced at the tentativeness in his voice. He sidled into the room. A shrug left his invisibility cloak pooled on the floor.

"You are still doing it." Severus waved his hand, and the book dropped on his bedside table with a thud. "Sit down. I do not wish to hurt my neck looking at you."

Automatically dragging the chair close to the bed, Harry obeyed. "You're looking better," He winced again. God, he really was a hopeless git. But it was true. Severus had even gained a little weight in the week since the healers had administered the series of potions.

Severus's eyes softened. "A cure will do that for a person."

"Yeah." Harry fiddled with a corner of the blanket, twisting it around, rubbing it this way and that.

"Harry?"

"Mmmm?"

"It is someday and I forgive you."

Harry's head snapped up. He stared at Severus. "You … you."

"Yes, I remember." Severus reached out, disentangled the fabric from Harry's hand, twined their fingers together. "I wondered that first day, when I sat at the staff table and watched an eleven year old boy waiting in line for the Sorting Hat. Then you were sorted into Gryffindor and I wondered if I were simply going mad."

"Shit."

"All those years of watching you grow into the boy I loved, recognising your handwriting, your voice, your infuriating, humiliating, inappropriately attractive everything. I was completely irrational, but I could not stop myself. On many occasions I would have happily killed you both, Harry Potter and his good friend the insufferable Miss Granger."

"I had no idea back then." Harry scrubbed his free hand across his nose.

"I know that, now." Severus raised Harry's hand, rested it against his cheek. His voice quieter, he acknowledged, "Perhaps I should have known it then also."

"Can I?" Harry gestured at the bed.

"If you remove your shoes first."

Harry toed off his trainers and climbed into the bed. Severus released Harry's hand and opened his arms. Laying his head on Severus's chest, Harry said, "I didn't want to leave you there, but I couldn't let you die here. Not after I found the potion in your book."

"You made the correct choice. I promise."

"If you're promising, then you must mean it." Harry smiled weakly and sniffed. "You and your sodding honour."

"Precisely."

He relaxed in the sheltering arms, feeling safe for the first time since the timeturner had brought him back. But soon he was restless, unable to stay still. Safe was not enough. He needed, wanted … he should give up trying to figure it out and take a chance.

Shifting on the bed until he was half kneeling and half leaning against Severus, Harry looked into black eyes that glittered with too many emotions to identify. Maybe they were both nervous, at least a little; he comforted himself with the thought. A deep breath and he curled his left hand around Severus's head. As his fingers rubbed against the soft short hair, he mourned the long hair that had been shaved by the healers. With his right thumb, he traced the arch of an eyebrow, the line of a high cheekbone, the slightly chapped lower lip. Still gazing into the black eyes, moving slowly, wanting to give time to object, he kissed Severus. The kiss was gentle at first, nibbling, licking, sucking on that delectable lower lip. Then Severus's hand cradled his cheek, his lips parted, their tongues met and Harry was lost in a haze, aware only of the places their bodies touched.

One kiss became another and another until Harry had to pull away before the last of his wavering control dissolved. He glanced back at the door, warded against locking charms like all patient rooms, and struggled to find the right words. "I want … but this, this is such a bad idea. Not that I think it's a bad idea, I mean, just here and now."

"Harry." When he didn't respond, Severus reached out and caught a flailing hand. "Harry. It's alright. I understand."

"You do?"

"I am the one recovering from near certain death, after all."

"Right. Yeah." Harry raised the hand holding his and dropped kisses on the pale knuckles. He let go to rub at his eyes, then snuggled back down, yawning. "Love you."

"And I you." Severus kissed Harry's messy hair, rubbed comforting circles on his tense back. "Now sleep. We can discuss our future in the morning. After you remove that glamour and eat some breakfast."

~fin~


End file.
